Ytilamaerd
by Daesgal
Summary: Reality is not always pleasant, Harry Potter knows this. Dreams are different from reality, are they? In progress, various pairings, mostly DH
1. Chapter 1

Hello there!

This, finally, ultimately, at long last,is the Draco/Harry story I wanted to write.

Title: Ytilamaerd

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm just borrowing them for a bit of fun.

Warning: slash, lemon, abuse. Don't like, don't read.

Enjoy!

It was just mere minutes past midnight. A lone shadow walked down the dark corridor and quietly sneaked to a door. It squeaked a bit as it opened and the figure jumped. Seconds of nervous waiting later it was clear that none of the other occupants of the house had woken. The figure sighed in relief and slipped in.

The room was almost completely dark, only light of the full moon fell through the rather small window, the glow reflecting in the mirror. The boy stopped in front of it and studied himself. Hesitating shortly he took off his t-shirt and turned his gaze to his torso and upper body.

Deep green eyes found bruises, both fading and new, scars, almost healed wounds that had reopened, burnings, fresh wounds, scratches, lines and patterns that were drawn with knives, rope marks and blood, oh so much blood. Most of the blood had already dried, but some of it was still fresh.

He didn't need to turn and look at his back to know that it would look very similar to his front, it was probably even worse. Shoving the thoughts away he turned and looked. It was worse, the belt-lashings stood angry and red against his barely tanned skin. Some of the wounds there almost went to the bone.

Sighing heavily he reached up to the rack, wincing only slightly in pain, taking down a washcloth, the one he always used. With as much care as he could muster he began his usual washing, trying to get rid of the blood.

He tried to regain the tiniest spark of cleanliness or even, dare he hope it, some flicker of purity.

But

Just like every of these many, many times before

Nothing

Nothing happened

He didn't feel better in the slightest.

Not that he ever expected it to change, but he could hope.

Couldn't he?

Wasn't he SUPPOSED to hope?

Wasn't it expected of him?

It was.

They always wanted him to do it.

They always wanted him to hope.

To hope for them.

To carry their burden for them.

To do anything they wanted him to.

To let himself be used as a pawn in their game.

He just HAD to.

He was their hero after all.

It simply COULDN'T be any other way.

They wouldn't have it.

If they were here now all they would do is to tell him to hold on, to tell him that he would get over it, that he was strong.

Then they would turn their backs on him and walk away.

So better not tell them about this.

Whether they knew or not he would always have to cope himself.

Nobody would help him.

That was not a serious enough mater for anyone to care anyway.

The boy turned round, washed out the washcloth and hung it back onto the rack.

He would take care of his legs tomorrow, right now he was only tired.

The boy gathered the ripped and dirty shirt off the floor, opened the now silent door and rushed back the short hallway and into his room.

He closed the window, relieved that the smell of blood was not that strong any more and he already started getting terribly cold. It had been long ago since he last bothered about the stench. Ten years back it had disturbed him, brought back the horrible memories and letting him relive the happenings. But not any more. Now it only reminded him that he was alive, after all. The memories had long since become a part of him, a part he could never escape.

Still, he was alive.

_Yeah, that is just SO like me: the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. Aren't I lucky?_

It was a hot and sultry midsummer evening.

Harry Potter was just making his way back into the dreaded house, that had been the only home he had known for over ten years. The very same house that he had now returned to for the fifth time, after having found a place that he now liked to call his "home".

He did not really look at where he was headed as he knew the Garden like the back of his hand. He was lost in the fact that his sole body hurt from all the work and the old bruises.

He staggered into the dreaded house, walking to his room and collapsing on his bed.

Again, like the night yesterday, and like the night before, or the night before that, or any night since the end of school a bloody and bruised boy softly walked down the short corridor leading to the bathroom. The same bathroom door opened without a squeak that night, deciding that it would not have to put additional strain onto the nerves of the poor boy.

Again the battered form reached for the same old washcloth, worn-out, stiff and scratchy after years and years of daily use.

Again the t-shirt was thrown off, and green eyes scanned the wounds and bruises.

Again the blood was cleaned off and the old washcloth washed out.

Again the door was opened anew, not squeaking and letting the boy leave in peace.

Again the door to the tiny bedroom, the one with the bloody smell and only the uncomfortable cot and the single little cupboard for furniture opened and admitted its occupant inside.

Again the worn-down covers were drawn back, and a skinny body slipped under it, grateful for the sole fact that the cot was at least a bit more comfortable than the floor.

Again heavy lids with black lashes drifted shut to grant the lithe body its deeply needed sleep.

_Harry's green eyes opened slowly, taking in his surroundings._

_He was lying on a very soft and big four poster bed. Slender metal poles, beautifully craved Chinese dragons supported the baldachin above. The hangings were of a rich deep blue, lined and embroiled with shining silver. The linen was of the exact same design, looking equally expensive. The silken covers, only loosely draped over him, felt very soft against his bare skin. _

_Only then did the black-haired boy realize that he wore not a single item of clothing._

_Seconds later a low, melodious voice drifted through the air. It made it's way to his ears, bringing him back from his shock. _

"_What happened, love? Did you have another of your nightmares?"_

_Pale, muscular arms wrapped around him from behind, drawing him back against a cool, hard chest. Warmth from deep within them both engulfed him, just like the body behind him. He let out a deep, content sigh and relaxed, for the first time in what felt to be centuries. His whole body fell limp as he was overcome with a deep sense of security and safety. _

"_It'll be okay. I'm here."_

_Light kisses were panted on ebony hair while the arms just held on tighter. Emerald orbs were covered once more as his tired eyes closed._

_The arms shifted and laid him down on his back. Harry could feel the other hovering just above him an aura of iciness surrounding him. Anybody else would have shivered at the cold but to Harry it was complete bliss. He relished the cool that soothed his skin as well as the fire that molt the walls around his soul._

_Slender fingers glided slowly across his skin, sending shivers of pleasure though his body. They proceeded to explore his whole body, setting his nerves on fire and forcing quiet moans from his throat. Cool lines were drawn on the light tan, gently caressing the lithe form._

_Slowly the other leaned closer, planting gentle, feathery kisses where his hands had just left moments ago. Slow licks soon followed suit, leaving wet trails on now burning skin. The owner of emerald orbs could no longer restrain his body from trembling in pleasure. _

_Lids with ebony lashes squeezed shut even tighter momentarily. Then he gave in and relaxed fully once again._

_Rosy lips and shaking hands fervently sought cool skin and silken hair. Cool lips moved to meet his, capturing them in a gentle, passionate kiss. Velvety tongues moved against each other, lazily battling for dominance. The ebony haired as much giving into his cool partner as he was being dominated over._

_The green eyed boy could clearly feel the cool body rolling on top of him, supporting himself on either side of his head. A excited gasp robbing him of what little breath he had left. The other pulled away slightly, to give him time to catch his breath, but not separating their lips even in the slightest._

_Another gasp was drawn from the boy as his partner grid their nether regions together. Those cool lips once again found his own hot ones, tongue hungrily seeking entrance. The permission to ravish the hot cavern was immediately granted._

_Both of them were eager to get even closer. So the other didn't resist as the ebony-haired pulled him down, desperate for even more skin to skin contact._

_They rubbed together in a long since existing rhythm, both groaning as ecstasy built up more and more and then, finally, took over._

_Experienced fingers worked their way down his stomach, over his thighs to his most private area. All the while that wondrous mouth showered him with caresses, nipping at his collarbone, licking at his throat or lightly biting down on his neck. _

_Slowly one finger was inserted into his tight opening, sending another jolt of pleasure rushing through his system and forcing a little cry out of his throat. As soon as he had calmed somewhat the second finger followed, renewing the sensations and forcing him to make a keening sound. The fingers moved, searching, widening and preparing. Then they brushed against that one spot deep inside him, that made Harry cry out. Slowly the talented fingers withdrew again, causing a moan at the feel of loss._

_That feeling soon faded as something much bigger gently pushed into him. At first there was pain. He had to gasp, his breathing came faster and he could barely keep from crying out loud._

_Slender hands rubbed his back in an effort to calm him. His lips were caught in a gentle kiss again. The low voice made it's way to his ears again though he barely registered the soothing words._

"_Relax, love. I'm not going to hurt you. I won't hurt you, ever. Just relax. It'll be fine in a minute."_

_The gentle ministrations of his partner soothed him down and his body relaxed._

_The other was now sheathed deep within him and began to move, little thrusts, letting him adjust to the movement. Steadily the thrusts increased, till he had settled into a steady rhythm. The cool one pushing into the other forcefully, but ever careful not to hurt the lithe boy underneath him, and the ebony-head meeting him, drawing him deeper still._

_Slowly but surely they neared completion. The cool one starting to stroke his lover, intend on sending him over the edge first._

_The ebony haired boy threw his heard back and screamed out in pure pleasure. Only seconds later his partner followed with a deep, throaty groan of his own._

_Basking in the afterglow the cool figure drew his lover into his arms, holding him tightly to his chest._

"_I love you, Harry."_

_Emerald eyes snapped open and looked directly ahead into silver orbs that held a nearly unnoticeable amount of icy blue within._

Emerald eyes snapped open and looked directly ahead, only seeing darkness. It was slowly retreating to give reign to a new day.

Harry was panting and sweating and his heart thuddered heavily in his chest. Wearily he sat up, trying to bring his shaking body back under control.

A quick look around told him that nothing in his tiny room had changed in the slightest.

The single wardrobe which held all of his few belongings was still in place, as was the window and his scattered clothes from yesterday.

Everything looked normal.

Today was nothing special after all.

Just another morning with an abrupt waking after another strange dream. Nothing remotely unusual, nothing he hadn't experienced before.

Harry looked at the old clock on his nightstand. It was 6 o'clock. He still had half an hour till his aunt would stand outside his door, screech for him to wake up and him having to do so in order to start breakfast.

Harry quietly moved out of bed and shuffled through his cupboard for a new set of clothes. He carefully picked up his torn clothes and slipped soundlessly out of his room. In a matter of minutes he was out of the backdoor and had discarded the torn clothes into the garbage can.

Then he relaxed.

Harry walked over to the end of the garden, facing the rising sun directly. For a few moments he just stood there, with his eyes closed, letting the bright sunrays warm his small frame.

_"I love you, Harry."_

Somehow Harry knew whom these words belonged to and he also knew that this person was nowhere near him at this moment, but he also couldn't remember why, where or if he had ever heard them. But they seemed to echo through his whole being. And they warmed him much more than any sunray ever could. These words set him aflame, burned him from the inside out. Harry could feel a sort of coolness wash over his skin, but whether it was the wind or something else he couldn't tell.

He suddenly could hear a bird chirping and the wind rustling his clothes and the leaves on the trees, as if he had been deaf until now and somebody had miraculously cured his hearing.

"BOY!" aunt Petunia chose that one peaceful moment to screech for him from inside the house, ruining it.

"Coming, aunt Petunia!" Harry called back over his shoulder.

He stood just a second longer, watching the new day and smiling. Then he turned around, facing the dreaded house and his face fell.

The shining face, adorned with the most beautiful smile was replaced by a mask of dull obedience and sparkiling eyes were dimmed to sadness. His shoulders slumped as he slowly began to move. The weight settling onto him seemed to get heavier with every step he took.

As he had reached the backdoor nothing resembled the young man who had stood at the edge of the garden just moments ago. The miserable boy opened the door and walked in. The door fell shut behind him, shutting out the brightness of the new day.

That was the first chapter.

I'll write more as soon as I get some reviews.

I would really like your honest opinions on this. Flames will be ignored.


	2. Chapter 2

Today was the day, the most happy day of Harry's whole summer.

Today one of his teachers would come to escort him to Diagon Alley to get his school supplies.

Granted, it was Snape who would escort him, but even a day with the potions master of Hogwarts seemed like seventh heaven in comparison to another day with the Dursleys.

Harry glanced at the clock for what seemed to be the millionth time this morning. Only five minutes then the Professor would be here.

The green eyed boy wandered into the bathroom to check his appearance over a last time. Everything looked normal, only very, very big, but that was normal to him. His jeans hid the bruises on his legs and the green long-sleeved shirt hid the marks on his arms. He walked out of the room, intend to go downstairs to await Severus Snape there.

As Harry extended his arm to close the door he winced in pain and had to bite his lip to restrain form crying out. He was still sore from the beating he had gotten just a week ago. The one he had earned himself by talking to the new neighbors the day before. And he didn't have any bandages to protect his ripped skin.

Slowly he closed the door and struggled to return his breathing to a more normal pace. Then he turned and made his way down the stairs.

Just as he was about to sit down Snape appeared in the room. Just like that. There was no warning, or anything. He just stood there from one second to the other. As if he had stood there for hours.

He wore his usual black robes as well as a heavier than usual scowl. He didn't even seem at least neutral about the fact that it was HIM who had to take Harry shopping. Indeed, he was totally and utterly displeased with having to spent time with the Boy-Who-Lived, that much was obvious.

"Good Morning, Professor Snape."

"Mr. Potter. I hope you do have all your things with you. Stand next to me, try not to move and keep quiet. "

Harry just nodded and moved over to stand next to his potions Professor.

Severus laid one hand onto the boys shoulder.

Harry panicked momentarily, but forced himself to calmness. He could, however not suppress the shudder that ran through his whole body, barely managing to turn the frightened yelp into a hardly audible whimper.

The green-eyed boy pressed his eyes shut and forced himself to stop moving.

Severus Snape's sensitive ears automatically picked up the tiny sound coming from the boy. He raised an eyebrow as he could feel the shudder running through Harry. He could feel the boy's fear. It was filling the room, nearing panic and assaulted his overly high senses. Then Harry stopped moving, but he was far from calm, the fright still rolled off him in intense waves.

_'There is something wrong with Potter. Seriously wrong. He doesn't fear me, after all.'_

Quickly shaking his head and shoving these thoughts to the back of his mind, Hogwarts' potions master vanished from the Dursleys living room only to appear immediately in front of Gringotts.

There he immediately removed his hand from Harry's shoulder. But even then Harry didn't stop trembling. Only as the potions master stepped away he could feel the waves of fear subsiding and the other finally began to calm down.

Snape waited a few moments till he was sure the boy was calm and reacted to his surroundings properly.

_'I don't need a careless Potter. It's bad enough I have to baby-sit him.'_

Then he proceeded to walk into Gringotts with fast strides. The boy stood for another second, then hurried to catch up.

Roughly half an hour later they stepped into the sunlight once more, Harry's pockets now full of Galleons, Sikles and Knuts.

Hesitantly Harry led the way over to Flourish and Blotts, all the way looking around, as if he was being followed. Severus often felt the green eyed youth gaze at him with a mixture of uncertainty, uneasiness and maybe even … fright. He seemed to avoid all the other people, looking at them suspiciously, and moving as far away as he dared, and not be noticed.

As they stopped in front of the bookstore Harry turned half and shot the potions master a weary look. The older man was surprised to say the least. The great Harry Potter, seeming to beg permission from him to continue his way? This was a truly new sight indeed. He gave a court, almost undetectable nod. Then he could feel the relief flood from the boy, just like he could see the slight slumping of relaxing shoulders. Just then he turned back, facing the door once again, squaring his shoulders and going inside.

It continued like this the whole day. Harry would lead the way to the stores, then he would pause just at the entrance, shooting the potions master an uncertain glance, whereas Severus would give one o these slight nods. Then Harry would slip back into his boy-who-lived role and walk into the shop.

Throughout the whole day they hadn't met anyone they knew and weren't bothered by any of the many people that would pass them ever so often.

It had already begun to darken and the clock just announced that it was seven o'clock as they were finished shopping. They were back to where they had appeared from, directly in front of Gringotts and ready to go.

Severus moved to Harry's side and wordlessly, reluctantly laid a hand onto the boy's shoulder. Immediately the green-eyed youth tensed, just like he did that morning.

He only calmed after they had reappeared in Privet Drive and the Potions Master had retreated a few steps.

"There you are, boy!"

A loud male voice bellowed suddenly. Harry didn't acknowledge his uncle and turned to Snape.

"If you would just give me my packages and then please leave, Professor. You see my uncle isn't really fond of wizards staying in his home."

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, and Harry feared that he had overstepped the line finally. He was, therefore, very surprised at the potion master's answer.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. I assume everything has been taken care of. I think you know where you can send your messages if you need anything. Headmaster Dumbledore, surely, will be delighted to help his golden boy."

The potions master pulled the various shrunken packages out of his pockets and with a wave of his hand they were back to their regular size. He handed them to the boy and disappeared soundlessly.

Harry stared at the spot the man had just vacated for a few more seconds, till the same loud voice called out again, sounding much nearer now.

"So, you give me these packs and then you go out and mow the lawn. No food till you're done!"

Vernon Dursley then proceeded to rip the packages full of books and other items from Harry and left to shove them rudely into the closet under the stairs, not caring if he ruined anything in the process.

Gryffindor's golden boy sighed, turned and walked out to fulfill his daily chores.

Two hours later he stepped into the house again, dirty, sweating and way hungrier than before.

"I'm done uncle Vernon."

"You better not be lying, bloody boy!"

Not answering to the unspoken threat, Harry headed upstairs to his room. He sat silently on the bed to wait for his uncle to confirm that he finished his task. Or to punish him for not doing it right.

Only seconds later he could hear the heavy footsteps coming up and towards his room.

The door burst open and fell shut again as Vernon Dursley stormed into the room.

"Seems like you did your job well for once."

Harry let out the smallest sigh of relief.

_'Maybe I won't be punished today.'_

His uncle must have felt the hope coming from him, but Harry was sure he had hidden it well. However the man undid his Belt and held it in front of himself.

"But didn't I tell you to come home at half past six? So turn round, boy."

The green orbs slid shut in pain as the warm water hit his bruised flesh. An arm had to be pressed to the wall to keep the thin figure from collapsing. Rosy lips parted in a silent cry of agony. His legs couldn't carry the weight any longer and the figure finally collapsed. It slid down the wall and came to a rest sitting under the spray of water.

The water running to the drain had changed it's color long ago from the normal crystal clear to a light crimson. The drops still stung as they made contacts with the new bruises and fresh wounds, but little by little they also soothed the pain.

"_It'll be okay. I'm here."_

Those words slowly drifted into his mind and brought with them a security unknown to the boy. Just like when he had first heard the same words muttered from lips he couldn't remember any longer.

And for once he believed.

He believed in these words.

He believed in the familiar stranger who had uttered them, in a place and time unknown to him.

He believed that one day, and be that day a lifetime away, everything would be okay.

Green eyes shone, once again filled with hope.

Hope that had not been present there for many years.

The pain had by now died away, replaced by only a dull ache.

Something cool was wrapped around him soothing him, protecting him.

Warmth spread from within him, driving away the last of the pain and leaving him really ache-less for the first time in years.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, slowly lighting up the whole beautiful face again.

"_Relax, Love."_

And the petite body fell backwards into the sheets. Emerald eyes closed and sleep finally came.

Harry opened his eyes wearily, feeling more relaxed than after any other night.

He turned round to look at his clock. An hour till he had to be up.

Silently he dressed and looked at his calendar.

That was the Day, the one he had awaited so long, but never truly believed it would happen.

The new school year in Hogwarts would begin.

He would finally see his friends. After not being able to hear from them for the whole summer it was wonderful to see them again. Seamus would go on and on about one topic or the other, whatever had managed to catch his interest, Hermione would surely rant about their Holiday-Tasks, and Ron simply wouldn't stop his speech about Quidditch, but that didn't matter. They could talk for days and days and he wouldn't care. Simply being near them was all he needed.

It meant that he had escaped the hell that was this dreaded house.

Even the thought of seeing Malfoy again made him happy. Solely for the fact that he was from the magical world. And even if he hated him, Malfoy at least respected him.

At precisely 9:30 the Dursleys dropped him off at King's Cross and then rushed off in their car as fast as humanly possible.

Harry didn't care. He didn't look after the car speeding along the street. His green eyes were glued to the train-station in front of him.

Whistling softly he pushed his cart up to the barrier between nine and ten. Waiting till nobody looked, he walked up to it and straight through. Immediately the scarlet engine appeared in his line of vision. Many different voices were heard, drowning each other out, fading in the background and dancing around his ears.

Happily the boy who lived pushed his chart towards the end of the train, where his friends were most likely to have gotten themselves an compartment. Finally he found them, waving at him through the windows. Ron and Seamus both got up and helped to get his trunk onto the train.

And before he knew it Harry was sitting there with his friends, laughing, joking, chatting as if nothing had happened at all.

The shadow over him and the haunted feeling was driven back to the depths of his soul and replaced by fake sparkles of excitement and joy. The pain was ignored, not dealt with and the flinching was suppressed.

_'Yeah, everything is normal. Everything is fine.'_

And somewhere silver eyes with icy shine continued their unconscious search.

Searching for that one something that just had to be somewhere.

Searching and searching, but to no avail.

Searching for something they had never seen before.

Searching for that something that yet they knew had to be there.

END CHAPTER TWO


	3. Chapter 3

After a long wait here it is, the third chapter of "Ytilaermaerd". Read enjoy, and review.

Abi2 and Adela Nightmoon, thank you for your nice reviews, I hope you will like this new part too.

* * *

„Harry?"

The green-eyed boy looked up from his transfiguration-book, to see his two best friends standing in front of him. They appeared to be very nervous about something.

„Yes Herm?"

„Well, uhm … me and Ron, we have to … to tell you something."

"Yes, what is it?"

"Well, you know that Hermoine was staying with us over the holidays, right mate?"

"Yeah?"

An eyebrow rose to indicate that he was listening and a quiet but clear show of his irritation at their weird demeanour. His friends normally were some of the chattiest persons and nearly constantly talked about something or the other. So he silently wondered what got them nervous enough that they would stutter the whole time.

"Well, uhm, … we are … kinda … sorta, we are … what I mean is that … uh …"

Ron was abruptly cut of by Hermoine who blurted out all in one breath.

"We'rekindatogetherasinlikeacoupleandI'msohappyandRon'ssuchagoodkisser…"

then she stooped as abruptly as she had started and blushed.

"Wow, slow down Herm, I didn't hear anything other than We're kinda, happy, Ron and kisser. What exactly are you trying to tell me?"

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. A huge grin formed on her face and she started again.

"We're a couple. Me and Ron are together."

Ron now also bore a bright grin on his face and was smiling down on Harry.

Griffindors golden boy was suddenly very glad that he was sitting. He was shell shocked.

_'Did they just tell me that … they are really together. _

_I mean, yeah, they were so obvious, … I ever knew … , hell even Malfoy probably knew it was going to happen, but now? It comes very surprising. And How? When?'_

Then he realized that he was still just staring at his friends and they seemed to be getting quite nervous again.

"When? How? I mean, sure I'm happy for you two, you're my best friends, how could I not. But when did you find out?"

"Pretty much at the beginning of the holidays."

"Yeah, Hermoine decided that we had been dancing around each other for too long now …"

"And one day I found the courage to walk up to Ron and kiss him."

They turned towards each other, Hermoine quieting down with each word and trailing off. They never once broke eye contact and slowly the space between them shrank away. Their faces neared each other, arms crept around the other and eyes slowly closed. Then, after the tiniest hesitation their lips found each other, catching the other in a gentle kiss. A first gentle kiss that soon gained passion, but still it stayed innocent. Slowly and again not breaking the contact Ron walked them backwards to a nearby couch, seating himself with Hermoine in his lap.

All eyes in the common-room were fixed on the couple on the couch.

Nobody looked at the Boy-Who-Lived who was now left sitting alone. His eyes too, first followed the kissing couple. Then the emerald orbs dulled. The boy hung his head, defeated and sighed shortly before he caught himself. He stood, closed his book, turned and walked up to his dormitory. He put the book away mechanically and then looked around the empty room.

Red and gold hangings and decorations stood bright even in the darkness, but they offered no real warmth, no real comfort.

Not like any human face would have.

But nobody except him would be here that night.

Ron was with Hermoine and they would surely continue what they started in Hermoines dorm, since all other female Gryffindors were absent. Seamus was out somewhere, without telling where he went or who he saw, as he did often these days. Dean was with Lavander off in the Astronomy Tower in some classroom as Neville had told him earlier. And Neville himself would be in the library to study for potions and had borrowed his invisibility cloak for it.

With that his thoughts wandered back to his two best friends.

_'Why haven't they told me? Why haven't they ever let something drop in one of their letters? _

… _There have been no letters… Why didn't they write me? _

_What made them stay silent for the whole summer? _

… _They didn't even send me a birthday-card. _

… _It's not that I didn't get anything, I never got anything, but, … Why? Why? _

_Am I not their friend? _

_Don't they trust me?' _

_A figure in black stood in the faint shadow of a tree on top of a hill. It was watching a little village that lay directly at his feet. Then the figure turned to the other figures standing silently._

_They all wore black robes, which were silently billowing in the night air. Their faces were hidden by pristine white masks, only their eyes were shindig through the holes. The men and women were silently awaiting the orders from the lone figure atop the hill._

_Silently the figure gave command to attack._

_For a few minutes it was still eerily quiet, and then all hell broke loose._

_People were screaming, running, falling, crying, pushing, rushing, trying to get away. And the figures in black were calmly chasing them, singing in joy. Some of the people were lifted above the crowd, others were just quieted forever with a blinding green light._

_Through all the chaos the lone figure from the hill-top was making its way steadily to the middle of town._

_Along the way, the normal people rushed away from the figure, whereas his followers in black bowed deep. He nodded barely at his followers but smirked in delight over the fear radiating from the towns-people._

_Then the Figure had reached the middle of the little town. _

_It stopped, and for some moments stood perfectly still._

_As if influenced by magic, everything quieted down, until the same eerie quiet from before the attack was regained._

_All eyes had fixed on the dreadful figure right in midst it all._

_Slowly, and unknowingly to them the Towns-people were surrounded, ever so silently, by the back-caped persons and slowly the ring tightened. They were forced nearer and nearer together and ultimately, nearer to the figure. although there ever remained a comfortable circle around it._

_The figure now raised his wand and quietly said one word, the one incantation that was his trademark, and his alone._

_Although it was nothing more than a mere whisper the word swept over them all, like a thunder roaring out the presence of a thunderstorm, and it screamed of awaiting pain, agony, and sorrow._

_"Mordsmorde"_

A scream tore from the black haired boys throat as he shot straight up in bed.

Frantic green eyes bore into the darkness, searching, for something to confirm that it had only been a bad dream, not reality.

All they found were four empty beds and faint moonlight seeping through the windows.

He scramble out of bed, desperately running up to the other beds, racking the covers and searching, finding noting.

On and on his search went, being as futile as in the beginning.

Panic rose, tightening his chest with the short breaths of fear. Arms wrapped around himself, to keep the panic suppressed.

But it was just as futile as the search.

Sobbing he collapsed on his bed, shivers of dread rushing through the lithe figure.

_Slowly cold hands racked through his hair, and he could feel his whole body leaning against something equally cool._

_And his sobbing quieted down, easing into soft crying and then only occasional tears running down his cheeks. _

_Never once during theses long minutes did the cool hands stop in their movements, continuously drawing their soothing circles._

_Harry looked up from his spot on the others torso._

_He met the same icy silver-eyes that had showered him with love the last time he had looked into the strangers face._

_But he was no longer a stranger._

_This was his friend, his saviour, his lover._

_And he was smiling down at him softly, soothingly._

_Idly, Harry stretched out a hand, fingertips hesitantly brushing against cool lips. Softly tracing the smile, as if daring himself to find out if this was really real._

_Somehow the smile looked almost unnatural in this face._

_It didn't mar the perfection in front of him, far from it._

_But, it didn't seem ... right._

_Almost as if ..._

_... he had seen him before ..._

_... but, just ..._

_... not smiling._

_A cool hand caught his, pressing it gently against the others cheek, and startling Harry from his thoughts._

_The other's smile widened a bit and then he turned, planting a soft kiss on Harry's palm._

"_Now, come, sleep, you'll be safe here with me."_

_He was drawn back into the cool chest, strong arms wrapping safely around him._

"_Rest, you need it."_

_The cool figure kissed his hair, blanketing them with the silken comforter._

_Harry relaxed again, resting against his lover._

_He was content, comfortable and felt so secure …_

… _but he still couldn't sleep._

_After a few minutes of restless shifting his cool partner gently tilted his head back, so he could look into his face._

"_What is it, love?"_

"_I can't sleep."_

"_Lie down, you will fall asleep soon, I promise."_

_Only shortly after Harry had done so the strong voice of his lover drifted down to him again, but this time he was not speaking. The soft tones formed a melody, quietly singing to him of lost memories and long gone winters._

_Patterns drawn by stroking seemed to dance along to the song, luring him into a world of fantasies_

Dancing bears,  
Painted wings,  
Things I almost remember,  
And a song someone sings  
Once upon a December.

Someone holds me safe and warm.  
Horses prance through a silver storm.  
Figures dancing gracefully  
Across my memory...

Someone holds me safe and warm.  
Horses prance through a silver storm.  
Figures dancing gracefully  
Across my memory...

Far away, long ago,  
Glowing dim as an ember,  
Things my heart  
Used to know,  
Things it yearns to remember...

And a song  
Someone sings  
Once upon a December

_And before the song had finished, Harry was fast asleep in his love's arms._

_The other just finished his song and then smiled down at the small green-eyed boy in his arms._

_He placed another soft kiss atop disheveled raven strands._

"_I will always love you."_

_Then he settled into the cushions, falling asleep himself._

Harry woke up as the sun shone right into his face.

"Mhmm, go 'way. Wanna sleep, luv."

"C'm on Harry, mate, wake up an' stop babblin' 'round."

Harry shot straight up in bed.

"Ron?"

"Yeah, mate."

"But ... but, there was ... there ... there was ..."

"What was 'arry?"

Harry couldn't say what had been there, even though he remembered something.

He sighed.

"Nothing, Ron, nothing."

"Okay, then I'll see you at breakfast."

And with that the redhead left the room.

Harry sat there, trying desperately to gater the few pieces of memories from the last night, spinning wildly in his mind, refusing to be caught.

He remembered a few words, melodical, but totally jumbled together, mixed, as if they were stray passages ripped from a song. And parts from a tune, floating around his mind, in a random pattern, sounding as if he had never heard it before, but he remembered them nonetheless.

He remembered gentle touches, caressing him, as if he really mattered.

But, other than that, there was nothing, his head was empty.

But, whatever it had been, it had been so clear.

He knew that there had been something, something real.

Real enough to be reality, but at the same time something, he himself could only dream about.

_Others may have it, but not me, never me._

Suddenly a cool wind picked up, not ruffling the bedsheets, or the hangings, but twirling soothingly around the distaught boy.

And the wind seemed to whisper, bringing with it a all to familiar strangers voice.

"_I will always love you."_

Somewhere another boy woke up.

A long, slender had brushed fine silver-blonde-bangs from sleepy silver eyes.

Slowly the world came into focus, and all the memories fell back into place.

A soft gasp echoed through the room, as one particular memory settled into place.

It was new, fresh from this night.

He had been somewhere with somebody else.

Then, he recognised the surroundings.

That was home.

His home.

He had been at home, in his room, with somebody.

But with whom had he been there?

He tried to focus on the other person, but he found that,

...he couldn't.

He found he could remember everything else, but the person that had been with him.

He could remember the distraught petite frame trembling in his arms.

He could remember his own soft touches, his soothing words for the other.

He could even remember the song he had sung for him.

And most of all he cold still feel the brimming love for the other.

The painful constricting of his chest, at seeing the other cry.

The joy he had felt as the lithe form finally relaxed against his own, more muscular one.

But he could not remember one detail about the other one there with him.


End file.
